“Indeed,” said I, “is that the case? But it doth truly appear that this virtuous Duke of Montesina was designed by Heaven that I might fulfil my father’s behests. To-morrow, come what may, I will adventure towards his country; and as you would have me believe that he hath a daughter, I must hasten to appear before her.”
“A pitiless old hag of sixty, I dare swear,” cried Sir Richard Pendragon. “There will not be a tooth in her mouth. But now you have put me in mind of this duke, young sirrah, I think I will adventure thither myself. For, upon my life, I have a crow to pluck with this King John of Castile. I mind me it is high time I put paid to a score I owe him.”
“Wherefore, Sir Richard?”
“Wherefore, my son? ’Tis but a year ago he threw the last of the Pendragons into a dungeon; and had it not been for the ready contrivance of that meritorious mind in scraping a hole through the wall with a nail out of his shoe, he would have ceased to drink sack this twelvemonth. Yes, Spaniardo, it was a most villainous matter, and it is certainly time I put it in order.”
“If I may ride with you, sir, I shall count it a proud day,” said I, making a low bow; for this strange man, with all his quiddity, was one whose company was to be esteemed in an early adventure into the world.
“You shall, good Don,” said he, smiling upon me with much civility. “And now let us draw our cloaks about us and creep into the chimney-place, and sleep the sleep of those who addict themselves to virtue. You take one corner and I will take the other; and let us pray that we sleep like doom, for I tell you, brother, it is a long and hard journey to Toledo.”
Seeing him quaff the final dregs in his monstrous cup, which of late had begun to thicken his speech a little, seeing him wrap his cloak about him and otherwise suit his action to his words, I was fain to imitate him in these particulars. Nestling into the warm corner of the chimney, for after the heat of the day the northern night was cold, fatigue overcame me at once, and I fell into a profound and delicious sleep.
CHAPTER VIII
OF A GREAT CALAMITY
I had not even time to mutter my prayers, which, considering what lay before me, were never so sorely needed, ere I was in a sweet oblivion. Upon returning from this pleasant bourne a joyful sense of refreshment stole over my veins, for my slumber had been dreamless, and for several hours the sun had been in attendance on the morning.
The first thing I observed was my companion of the previous night. He was seated on his stool, and was blowing with his mouth upon a basin of porridge.